


Despite My Empty Mouth

by hewaslost



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, S6 Canon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hewaslost/pseuds/hewaslost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean says “You don’t watch porn in a room full of dudes, and you don’t talk about it.”, he should have envisaged the reaction it would have in Cas. At a time when tensions run high, being forbidden to talk about his ever increasing feelings of desire and... other emotions, is making life more and more difficult for Cas by the encounter. Fighting a war is exhausting, and Cas wishes his war with Raphael was the only one has was being forced to endure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Despite My Empty Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a porny crack!fic and it somehow dissolved into 15,000 words of angst... I'm not sure what happened, but I know that writing it almost killed me. Having to rewatch the later half of S6, in that much detail, that many times, is something that no one should have to endure.

“You don’t watch porn in a room full of dudes, and you don’t talk about it.”

Dean doesn’t sound happy and Cas isn't sure he understands why. If the way Sam’s too intensely focused on his laptop and the slight flush of Dean's cheeks are anything to go by, Cas thinks he might have overstepped some line; just another human custom that he doesn't get. Great.

"Just turn it off." Dean says, frustration clear in his tone.

And Cas would, if he wasn't distracted by the reaction his vessel was having. He's felt this some of this before; the heat in his groin, the dryness in his throat, the need for something just out of his reach, but it's never been this strong, this focused.

Apparently seeing two human copulate has more of an effect on his vessel than staring into Dean's eyes when they're mere inches apart, which makes no sense to him. Then again, he's been watching humans for thousands of years and not once in all that time has he ever felt anything like this as a result of his observations.

Maybe it's not meant to make any sense.

He's distantly aware of Dean's realisation of his predicament, the exasperated throw of his hand in the corner of Cas' line of sight. Even Dean's displeasure does little to distract him from the sensations of the body he inhabits.

His body, really. Jimmy's been gone for so long but it still feels wrong to think of the vessel as his, as Castiel's own. Cas has no body; this is merely a temporary way to shelter his true self from the humans he watches over.

But inhabit the body he does, no matter who it belongs to. As time’s passed, and he's become more aware of the sensations it feels, the sensations it makes him feel, the more he's become aware of this type of feeling.

Arousal.

Arousal and the other feelings, the more complicated, emotional ones that he doesn’t have names for, and that he’s not sure he understands.

He's often thought of bringing his concerns to Dean but it's never been the right time; the apocalypse, the civil war in Heaven; dealing with such a petty thing as _arousal_ has never seemed to be a matter worthy of the precious little time he has with Dean. There's always something else to talk about, something else to do, somewhere else to be.

But Dean's here now, and there's time; they have all night, but Dean's telling Cas that this is something 'dudes' don't talk about. This might make things difficult. He can’t even begin to fathom why such a thing is not allowed to be a topic for discussion, but he doesn’t really want to press the issue. It’s better just to let it go. He’s an angel after all; these feelings should be below him.

Cas shakes himself back into awareness when Sam ducks his head and turns off the television, pointedly not looking at Cas as he does so. There will be another time to deal with these- growing feelings, although now he sees he will have to do so without Dean's help. Or Sam's for that matter. He straightens his spine, pulling himself up to full height as Samuel talks about Crowley's location, and pushes his concerns away.

Right now, the matter of how to avoid his deal with Crowley coming to the boys’ attention is a much more pressing concern. He's not sure how he’s going to work his way round this one, but there's still time to come up with an idea. Some way of making it seem like Crowley's dead so the brother's stop hunting for him...

*****

As a fully fuelled angel, Cas doesn't require sleep; not like he did in that brief, dark time in which he was falling.

No sleep means no dreams, but sometimes, in amongst the war preparations and his talks with Crowley and making sure that Dean and Sam were adequately looked after and distracted, Cas sometimes permitted himself to think back on his encounters with Dean; day dreams of a time when things between them were less strained, when there was still something like trust and camaraderie.

He's been distant from Dean recently, and it's taking its toll on their relationship; he'd give almost anything to fix it, but he can't risk being caught so this is the way it has to be; he hides himself from Dean, continues to work with Crowley,  _and_ fronts a guerrilla war at the same time. He prays that when this is over there'll be a chance to fix whatever he has left with Dean. It's Dean he's doing this for after all. It would be a shame for Dean to hate him once all this is done.

When he can spare a moment, Cas thinks not of the pitiful, desperate state their relationship is in now, but instead of the past in which he could talk to Dean with ease; counting the freckles on Dean's cheekbones and getting reprimanded for forgetting the personal space rule, again; riding shotgun in the Impala, both of them silent and comfortable.

He thinks of their fight in a dirty alley and the way it felt to have Dean crushed against his body, his vessel just as unrelenting as the wall of brick at Dean's back. He thinks of the way Dean's body had given way under his blows, the way his eyes had fallen closed, and his lips had fallen open. He thinks of the way Dean had breathed out his name, and the condensation it had pushed weakly across Cas' face.

He remembers the virgin urge to reach out and swipe away the blood on Dean's lower lip with his tongue. He remembers the burn of it all; that low, simmering fire that crept through his veins and pooled in his abdomen.

Maybe he should have talked to Dean about it at the time. Maybe he should have reached out and done as he'd wanted, licking his way across Dean's lips and deep into his mouth; Dean’s always responded better to actions than words after all; that's why they were in that alley in the first place.

But he'd said and done nothing, and in time his vessel had come down from the high it was riding. He'd watched Dean in uneasy sleep and with pain in his chest he'd wished that Dean could be spared this trial. Cas' own problems had seemed small in light of the daily torment Dean had to suffer, and so he had stayed silent.

Maybe he shouldn't have.

*****

The next time they meet, Dean's gone against his advice and rammed Sam's soul back into his body. Cas' heart is heavy as his hand ghosts over the tattered, wounded thing that lies in Sam's chest; there's so little of Sam's joy and unending hope left, that if Sam wakes up at all Cas will be surprised if he's ever the same again.

Carefully, he removes his hand and curses himself once more for not realising that he'd failed at an earlier point in time. From the moment Sam had turned and walked away from the street light outside Lisa's house, Cas should've known something was wrong. He should've trusted his instincts and checked that Sam was all right.

It would have been easy, but instead he'd chosen to remain prideful in his success of having Sam up and out of the Pit, stubbornly ignoring all the wrongness the image of Sam's retreating back caused in his mind.

It would have taken moments, and it could have saved Sam months and months of suffering; decades if you counted his experience in the way time passes in Hell. But he'd refused, and now Sam's paying the price. Dean's paying the price. And Cas is going to have to go back out to where Dean's nervously waiting in Bobby's basement, and explain to him that his brother might never wake up.

He still can't tell Dean that he was the one to raise Sam from Hell, so he can't do this the way he might want to; with apologies for his actions and his mistakes. Dean would never understand, especially not now after Cas has spent the better part of one and a half years doing something that would break Dean's heart; shattering their fragile trust, their weary bond.

It was Cas who had wanted to keep Dean in the dark, and now it was Crowley as much as himself that was keeping it that way. If Dean were to realise the truth the whole war effort could come crashing down, and it would still be Dean who would pay the price.

So he won't admit to his sins and beg to be absolved. Instead Cas can think only of one other path; all-out offensive. With one last look at Sam's unconscious form, Cas stands up and walks towards the heavy iron door of the panic room, forcing himself to swallow the bile that rises in his vessel's throat and focus himself for what's to come.

Cas doesn't look at Dean as he walks past him, doesn't even toss a glance in Dean's direction.  If they lock eyes Cas won't be able to look away and then he'll be lost.

"Well?" Dean's clearly tired of waiting; lack of sleep, and worry making his hushed words trip out quickly in concern and question.

It takes a moment for Cas to compose himself enough to speak.

"His soul is in place." he says, speaking to the cold stone wall of the Bobby's basement rather than Dean, trying to delay the inevitable.

Dean says, "Is he ever going to wake up?" and another stab of regret runs through Cas, swift and sharp. Dean mustn’t see it. He mustn’t suspect.

Cas continues to speak with his back to Dean, replying in tones just as low as Dean's were, but he adds faked frustration to his words. "I'm not a human doctor Dean".

That frustration is mimicked back to him, Dean's already failing veneer of calm slipping.

"Could you take a guess?" he says.

There's rarely a time when Cas curses Dean's unrelenting devotion to his brother, but now is one of them. He doesn't have answers Dean is going to want, and the messenger always gets shot in these situations. He's tired of Dean shooting him, no matter how much he may deserve it. It doesn't feel right when Dean's not shooting him for the things he should do.

"Okay." he says, gearing himself up for what's to come. He turns to face Dean, and the few metres between them seem like miles of cold, empty space.

"Probably not". he bites out.

"Oh well, don't sugar coat it."

Despite his words, Dean barely looks taken aback; part of him knew this was coming.

He knew because Cas had told him, and Cas presses that advantage even as another part of him starts praying desperately for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry Dean but I warned you not to put that thing back inside him".

Dean whips his head back round from where he's turned to check over his brother's too still body. "Well what was I supposed to do? Let T-1000 walk around, hope he doesn't open fire?" Dean says angrily, his voice raising to a level that erases all pretence that they've kept quiet so as not to disturb Sam sleeping in the room next to them.

T-1000; another reference to go straight over Cas' head. He doesn't know why Dean bothers, but these quips are something he's come to love as well as hate. The swell of nostalgia he feels has no place here; it's not the time for him to mourn the past, their present, or their future. He pushes it aside and ends this conversation the only way he knows how.

He walks forward as he speaks, keeping his voice as low as it ever was as he crowds right into Dean's personal space, so close that their faces are only inches apart. "Let me tell you what his soul felt like, when I touched it. Like it had been skinned alive Dean."

It works; Dean's on the back foot as he always is when Cas gets this close to him. Why that is Cas will never truly understand, although if it makes Dean feel anything like the way his vessel feels...

He remains unblinking and full to the brim with supposedly righteous anger even as Dean's eyes flicker down to his lips for the smallest of moments.

There's no time for this, for this delicious, confusing ache.

"If you wanted to kill your brother you should have done it out right." he says.

Dean's not focused on Cas' lips now; his eyes are locked and unwavering on Cas’. Cas has crossed a line; a sacred, sacred line and part of him cries for the dead, cold look Dean gives him. There's nothing there anymore, and there used to be so much. The victory feels hollow in a way that seems to make his vessel's stomach pull in and in and in on itself; a gnawing in his gut that won’t cease.

Feeling something akin to shame, Cas spreads his wings and takes flight, travelling as fast and as far away from Dean and his guilt as his wings can carry him.

*****

A hand on each of their shoulders and a pull at his Grace is all it takes to bring the boys back to Bobby's. They're angry, understandably, and Cas keeps his back turned to them as he allows them to think that the whole escapade was Balthazar's doing. It might have been his idea, but it was sanctioned with Cas' authority. He leaves that bit out of his explanation.

"That's not comforting Cas." is Deans' angry retort, and why is it that Dean's always angry with him nowadays.

Yet again, Cas is driven to frustration by Dean's attitude, by Dean's refusal to see that he's not the only one being hurt here. It's hard to keep his voice low when he turns round to face them, when all he wants to do is scream and scream until they accept his position.

"When will I be able to make you understand? If I lose against Raphael, we all lose; everything." he says, and hopes that this is the time they listen; that Dean listens and understands.

It's no surprise when Dean shouts back at him. "Yeah Cas, we know the stakes. That's about all you've told us."

Behind the facade of anger and frustration, Cas can see Dean's concerns, written as clear as day. He's worried; he's knows there's something going on that Cas isn't telling him about and he's worried for what that means. But of course, he'll never say that; he'll never initiate a moment intimate enough for them to say these things out loud, and perhaps in the end that'll be their downfall. After all, _they're not allowed to talk about it._

"I'm sorry about all of this." he says. "I'll explain when I can."

He won't, but Dean needs to be reassured that Cas isn't truly hiding anything from him, so vague, false promises it is. Spreading his wings, he takes flight almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, escaping whatever retort or plea Dean would have for him. He's always found it hard to deny Dean anything, and right now all their fates rest on Cas keeping his secrets to himself.

*****

It's the middle of the night in a cold, empty field in a reality that shouldn't exist, and once again he's trying to explain their current circumstances to Sam and Dean without alerting them to his plans. He keeps moving the conversation, keeps it from getting into dangerous territory, and tries to remember to look at Sam as much as he does Dean; he fails appallingly in that regard.

His time with Dean is becoming more precious, rarer than it ever was, and in these times it's hard to focus on anything that isn't the way Dean's eyes reflect the heady mix of emotions trembling just beneath his surface, or the way that his lips and tongue move to make words that are forced out in anger more often than not.

The heat that used to flow through Castiel's vessel only when he and Dean were at their most intimate now seems to course through him every time they're together. It's all he can do to stop himself reaching out to touch the skin of Dean's lips with the sensitive pads of his vessel's fingers, wanting to see if they're as soft as he remembers, as soft as he remade them. He can't. He mustn't.

His breath catches, and he stumbles over the words he tries to say, lost in the constant war within himself that he's barely winning.

Sometimes he thinks Dean wants to ask him about it, when Cas stares at him for what Cas suspects might be too long, but he doesn't; he remembers his own rule and these things slip by, unacknowledged.

Cas is vaguely aware that he's telling Dean, _Sam and Dean_ , that the only possible option is for them to kill Fate, but he's more focused on the way Dean's features move to show his surprise; the raise of his eyebrows, the 'oh' of his mouth.

How desperately he wishes he didn't feel like this.

It's easier to look at Sam when Cas explains that Balthazar should have a weapon which will make killing Fate possible, but of course Dean has something to say about it and Cas' attention is inevitably drawn back to his one source of distraction.

"Of course he does; yeah well that guy's just got it covered doesn't he? You need new friends Cas." Dean says.

Cas replies "I'm trying to protect the ones I have, Dean." and then that's it; their eyes are locked and that's just _it_. The world’s gone and there's nothing left the but the gaze he's trapped in, nothing beyond him and Dean and this moment, and why does it always have to be like this?

Why does Dean's expression, so surprised, so open and intimate, make Cas want to forget all his other responsibilities and stay at Dean's side forever? The things that he would do for looks like this have dragged him down from righteousness, and he shouldn't pray for this not to be his last.

With great effort, he manages to drop his eyes to the ground, freeing his mind from Dean's focus as he continues to explain his plan. _You don't talk about it, you don't talk about it, you_ \- it becomes a mantra in his head, and Cas can only hope that it works; that it saves him from the impossibility of these feelings and doesn't cement his fall into madness.

_You don't talk about it. You don't talk about it. You don't._

*****

There's a small window of time, he thinks, at least enough to get this done. Today he's already had to endure a meeting with Crowley before co-ordinating a battle with Balthazar. Now he's finally got a minute to breathe it's only right that he does this. Surely he's earned it?

The motel room he picks is one Sam and Dean stayed in not too long ago, and it's currently empty. Cas turns the television on with a flick of his fingers as he sits down on the bed opposite.

They might not be allowed to talk about it, but his arousal is something that's becoming more pressing, more distracting. His mind has gone from remembering the tension that used to lie between him and Dean, to constructing vivid fantasies of its own, and on more than one occasion he's had to quickly excuse himself before another angel caught wind of his vessel's reactions.

Cas has watched humans for thousands of years; he knows what it is to copulate, knows how it can be done, has seen it a hundred thousand times over, but it’s never had this effect on him before and he needs to work out if this new sensation is merely the result of having a vessel, or if his problems lie directly with Dean.

Porn flickers to life on the old television screen, and Cas is greeted to the sight of a female riding a male with wild abandon, the cries of jubilation she makes coming quick and loud. His head tilts, reflexively trying to get a better look at the point where the two bodies meet, wondering if that's what his vessel wants.

Something seems wrong about the whole scenario; just like last time when the woman was having her rear slapped by the pizza man, this scenario too seems fake and convoluted. Cas isn't sure that sex is meant to look like this, too long fake hair and nails and eyelashes, both bodies strangely hairless, their noises too loud, their eyes too dead. In all the times he's seen the act of human reproduction, it has never looked like this to him. But maybe times have changed; the human world is so big now and they walk through it so alone. Maybe here it should be no different.

He's distracted from his thoughts when a jolt of pleasure runs through him, and a look down confirms that his vessel's penis has become erect while he's been distracted. It's not just Dean then that can cause this; it's just a bodily reaction and being in a vessel is the only thing that has changed his perception. That's all it is. Strangely, Cas can't tell if he's relieved or disappointed.

Intent on turning the television off, Cas looks back up at the screen to find the scenario's changed; the woman is lying on her back on the edge of a sofa as the man pistons his hips back and forth, in and out of the wetness Cas can see leaking out of her. Her eyes are closed, head thrown back in a rapture that is in no way real, and Cas wonders how Dean would look if they were in this situation; if it was Dean spread out on a cheap, cotton sofa and Cas was driving his cock in and out of Dean at a frantic pace.

He gasps as another shock of arousal passes through him, so much more powerful than the last; Cas swears he can feel it everywhere, from his dryness in his mouth down to the curling of his toes, and he's hungry for more.

The mechanics he knows, but he's never- as much as this vessel is now empty save him, he's never used Jimmy's body in this fashion, isn't sure if he should. In his mind, Dean lets out a needy whine Cas has never heard before as he rolls his head back and calls Cas' name, hands grabbing blindly at every bit of Cas' skin they can reach.

It won't hurt anybody; there's no one left to hurt, and Cas quickly fumbles with the leather belt holding up Jimmy's, _his_ , slacks, ripping it off, undoing the button, pulling down the zipper and taking Jimmy's, _his_ cock in hand. A deep moan escapes him with the sensation that first touch brings, somehow relieving and increasing the ache in his groin all at once.

He falls backwards, coming to rest on the bed with a slight bounce as the mattress gives under his weight. His eyes close automatically as the visions of him and Dean continue to play out in his head, and everything seems so much bigger than itself; he’s never noted the way his eyelashes feel on his face, or the tightness in his chest that accompanies the too fast beat of his heart; he’s never needed to but now he’s drowning in it, drowning in the emotion and the feel and _Dean, Dean_ everywhere and everything, as if Cas’ body is just _singing_ for him.

From root to tip, his hands eases up and down his cock with a firm grip and _oh, yes_. A small part of him wonders why hasn't done this before, why he resisted this so hard, but it's swamped down under _yes, yes, more, ahh_ and the silent thrum of his body, taut and strained under his ministrations. His pace quickens and his mind once again fills with thoughts of Dean.

Dean on his back with the long column of his throat exposed, Dean behind Cas plastering their bodies together as his hips thrust in and out of Cas at a languid pace, Dean's laugh and his smile and the way it makes his eyes and nose crinkle in such innocent joy, Dean with his gorgeous lips around Cas’ cock hollowed in effort, Dean with his legs spread wide and his hands clinging to Cas' hair in desperation as Cas' tongue works its way into his ass, Dean spilling cocky, filthy words into Cas' ear until Cas can do nothing but beg him for more, and please, _please_ -

His eyes spring open in the seconds before he hits the plateau his body has been working up to, his hand a blur as it flies over his cock which weeps in sympathy. A few more tugs and Cas' eyes are forced close by the wave that shatters over him as he reaches his crest. His head snaps back and his spine arches and his hips stutter forward as sticky, white fluid is shot over his hand, onto his chest, and staining his shirt.

The feelings are overwhelming, and it takes some time for Cas to come down from the temporary high he’s been riding. He forces himself to sit up as he uses his ‘mojo’ to clean away the evidence of this transgression, redoing his slacks with uncoordinated fingers and thumbs.

Well.

The experience has created as many questions as it’s answered, but Cas doesn’t have the energy or will to examine them too closely right now. With a groggy slump of his shoulders, Cas pulls himself up before extending his wings and taking flight. There’ll be someone waiting for him when he gets back; the little time he’s taken will be enough for his absence to be felt. He has an army to lead, a secret associate to work with, and a frustrated human to answer to.

As he leaves the motel, he pushes his feelings aside, locking them down deep and safe to be examined at another time, on another day. He thinks he has a better understanding of what’s going on but he can’t be sure, and he sighs as he realises this is just another secret he has to hide, another thing that he can’t talk about under any circumstances.

His life became so complicated when he set out on his mission to save the Righteous Man, and not for the first time Cas wonders how much more confusion lies in his future because of his actions that day.

*****

If he'd thought that sending Rachel might help to diffuse the tension between them, or serve to remind Dean that Cas is fighting a war that seems impossible even to angels, then he fears he did not succeed on either count.

But still, he had to try.

Dean’s acting like Rachel's presence had no great significance; perhaps the most important word being ‘acting’.

"Wow. A friend of yours?" he says, and Cas can feel the disdain that Dean's so desperately trying to hide. He's just not sure if Dean feels that way because his plan worked, or because it didn't.

"Yes, she's- uhh, my lieutenant. She's" He pauses as Dean's bottom jaw falls slightly, mouth opening in anticipation of what Cas is about to say. There are a great many things he could say, but this is something they do not talk about, and so he leaves his lies in the implicitly of his tone.

 "- _committed_ to the cause."

For once, Dean has no come back; no quick, sharp words and a reference that Cas doesn't understand. He stays silent, and Cas takes it as a sign that he’s managed to take Dean by surprise if nothing else.

Still, it feels good to have reminded them all, not just Dean, that he's an angel with a mission that is so many leagues above them, they couldn't possibly understand if they spent their whole lives devoted to such teachings.

He focuses on that rather than the fact that they've yet again called him away from an important mission just so that he can fulfil some task for them, with no or little thanks given in return; even if Dean thinks he's forgotten, and even if Rachel doesn't understand, Cas knows that he signed up to serve Dean in all ways a long time ago. They might not talk about it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there or that it isn’t real.

One more request is nothing that he will not give.

"Now what do you need?"

*****

Dean's praying, although Cas isn't all that sure he realises he's doing it given that it sounds like Dean's complaining about being the one doing the praying. In a lighter moment Cas might roll his eyes or laugh, or both, but there haven't been any light moments for a long time now, and he doesn't have time for this.

Spreading his wings he takes flight and materialises in Bobby's basement before Dean's even finished his sentence.

"-not like Cas lives in my ass. The dude's busy."

It's nice to hear that Dean's realised Cas might have concerns outside of Dean, even if it also feels oddly unpleasant that Dean would choose not to reach out to him in a time of need. Human emotions are so confusing.

Bobby realises Cas' presence before Dean, and their eyes meet in silent greeting for the moment before Dean becomes aware that there's someone behind him. He jumps back, spinning around as he gives Cas a quick glance over in his surprise.

"Cas get outta my ass." Dean says.

"I was never in your-" Cas starts, but he belatedly realises that Dean didn't mean that literally and stops midsentence. Technically of course, Cas has been in Dean's ass; he remade every cell of Dean's body, there's not a single part of him that hasn't been touched by Cas' Grace. He doubts Dean wants to hear that though; his pathological fear of intimacy might cause that statement to be received with some anger or discomfort, and Cas doesn't need to add to that pile of Dean's emotions.

Dean's eyebrows are burrowing in question and Cas realises there is another connotation to his reply. And now of course he can't _not_ think about what it'd be like to be inside Dean in that way, and yes hello; there's the now familiar pang of arousal in his stomach. He wonders if Dean's thinking about it too.

_You don't talk about it. Don't talk about it._

It takes a moment for him to regroup and he lets out a weary sigh before he changes the subject. He's getting tired of battling with this.

"Have you made any progress in locating Eve?" he asks, and it's Bobby, not Dean who answers his question.

The rest of their meeting passes quickly enough, but Cas is distracted by the steady thrum in his veins and the desperate want to get closer to Dean, who hasn't moved despite the fact his position in front of Cas puts him awkwardly in the middle of the circle that their group forms.

Cas doesn't think about what that might mean, and he doesn't ask Dean if it would be easier for him if Cas were to move. He stays silent, and listens as they inform him of a vampire who might be able to help their cause. His promise to locate the girl is given to Dean with solemn certainty, and even though Dean doesn't say it, Cas can tell he's grateful.

Once out of Dean's presence he allows himself some time to think, to work out how this will factor into his plans with Crowley. They boys think that Crowley's dead but locating Eve could change all of that, and besides; it’s he and Crowley who need to find Eve if their mission to open Purgatory is to be successful.

He fears the noose in tightening around him, and it saddens him more than he can say. If this works out there will be celebration like never before; he will have triumphed and Dean will be safe, the lies will stop and things between them will be able to go back to normal.

If it goes wrong...

Cas vaguely remembers a time in which he didn't feel tired, or guilty, or conflicted, and he wonders why his faith won't ease his burdens like it used to.

*****

All dressed up in the guise of Mary Winchester, Eve: Mother of All has Dean by his shoulder, her face so close to Dean's that they're practically touching.

She whispers her threat into his ear in the unfair mimicry of intimacy; the soft words of a Mother to her son.

"Don't. Test Me."

It feels like the world is holding its breath. No one's moving; the- Jefferson Starships, Sam, Bobby, even Cas himself is still, as if the slightest movement would give Eve all the cause she needs to rip Dean limb from limb.

And she _can't_ , she just can't.

More so than ever, Dean's protection is high up Cas' list of priorities; this isn't like during the apocalypse where an untimely death meant a quick trip to Heaven where the worst they would face was a humiliated and wrathful Zachariah.

If Dean dies now he'll go to Heaven and straight into Raphael's waiting arms. There's no way Cas would be able to get to Heaven in time to protect Dean, even if it was a place he could go without fearing attack, and then Dean would be lost to him; everything would be lost. With Dean's soul in his grasp, Raphael would have all the ammunition he needed to bring Cas' rebellion crashing down around him. Even if Cas immediately gave himself up to die at his brother's hand, more likely than not Raphael would have Dean tortured for eternity anyway, just so that Cas would die knowing the ultimate despair.

The only other alternative of course would be to ensure that Dean's soul fell to Hell when he passed, but there lies another pit of deadly, treacherous snakes. Crowley's meant to be his ally and temporarily queuing in line while Cas works his way to Crowley's domain would be no big hardship, but if Crowley had his hands on Dean's soul he could demand whatever he wanted of Cas and Cas would have no choice but to acquiesced. Again, all his work would be undone for nothing, and there would be no guarantee that Dean or the world he'd tried so hard to preserve would be safe.

Eve can't kill Dean; if she did... Cas frantically prays that Dean doesn't do anything rash.

Dean grits his teeth, his repulsion to Eve's proximity clear. "Bite me." he spits out, and something in Cas' stomach drops swift and far.

Before Cas can even blink, Eve sinks her teeth into the tender skin of Dean's neck and Dean's face contorts in pain.

There's barely time for Sam panicked cry of _No_ and Cas' own plea; _Dean_ , before Eve's hastily pulling back, covering her mouth and coughing, while triumph shines through the pain in Dean's eyes. "Phoenix ash." he says with a grin.

Oh. Very clever. Horribly risky of course but very, very clever, and apparently effective if the way Eve's coughing is anything to go by. Blood and black goo rush from her mouth, her nose, her temples, streaming down her face in a foul smelling mess. She dies with panic in her eyes, and Cas feels some of his panic die with her. Dean's safe. But maybe not for long.

Eve's death releases whatever hold was on the Jefferson Starships, and as soon as Eve's lifeless vessel hits the floor they turn on the humans in their midst.

The familiar spark of his Grace comes back to him, and Cas shouts _shut your eyes_ before smiting all the monsters in the dingy diner. It feels good to have his power back; Dean's been so horribly vulnerable without it, even if he didn't know it or wouldn't want to admit to it.

The muted awe he hears as Bobby praises his abilities is also gratifying, but he tries his best not to gloat; the ability to smite is just a bonus of being an angel after all, and Sam and Dean tend not to gloat when they perform a human action with ease that Cas cannot attain. Well, sometimes Dean gloats, just a bit, but he's always the one most willing to help Cas in the end. Cas'd go so far as to say that he sometimes thinks Dean enjoys teaching Cas the ways of humanity.

_You don't talk about it. You don't talk about it. You don't talk about it._

Pushing away all thoughts of a time when Dean could laugh with Cas by his side, Cas turns to Dean to find him babbling with barely hidden anxiety; he's worried about the bleeding and the taint in his blood but Cas can fix that, and he does.

He claps his hand to Dean's shoulder, shoots his Grace through Dean's body and fixes it in a matter of seconds. He doesn't let his hand linger; _don't talk about it, don't talk about it, don't even think it; what good will it do?_ running through his head, and his hands drops to his side as he manages to resist the temptation that is closeness to Dean.

It's easier to turn to the body of the girl who housed Eve instead. He'll need to report back to Crowley about this... incident; Crowley won't be pleased. Then again, Crowley's rarely pleased and Cas isn't doing this to please him; he's doing it for Dean.

All the same, it would have been preferable if she hadn't succeeded in her mission of letting the boys track her down; Cas needed her to work out how to get into Purgatory and her death might be a significant blow to the war effort.

He's drawn from his thoughts by Dean's voice, and then the guilty, shamed look on Dean's face.

"We gotta go; now." he says.

"Where?" Cas replies. He doesn't like the way Dean's looking at him; it's making Cas feel like something very bad is about to happen.

Dean closes his eyes for a moment before he wearily says "The kid. The little kid, he's one of them." He has trouble meeting Cas' gaze as he speaks and Cas is glad; he can’t keep his eyes on Dean either.

It takes a massive amount of effort not to roll his eyes in frustration. "Unbelievable." he says.

"Yeah Cas, I know; you told me all right? Let's just go okay." Dean's words are said with anger but Cas can tell it's more with himself than with Cas.

He suspects that if Sam was having this type of argument with Cas, then Dean would tell them to quit arguing like an old married couple; he wonders if relating their relationship to that of two people who have spent the majority of their lives together comes under 'don't talk about it' territory; he imagines it does.

But maybe that's it; maybe that's what they've become.

Their ever shortening time spent together, the little fights they get into over trivial things; maybe they're past the honeymoon period of their relationship and now they’re struggling through the trials of life together, but only just, with both of them lashing out as they mourn for the relationship they used to have.

It strikes a terrible chord in him, and Cas feels something akin to grief; how sad it is that he must mourn for something he never really had. He's left with the fallout, but he never received the joy of a complete union with Dean. The camaraderie of the battle field was all they got to share in the end.

Cas doesn't say a word, _you don't talk about it, you don't talk about it_ , and he turns to look at Sam as he takes a second to tamper down all the anger and injustice brewing inside him. When it's contained, he places his hand back on Dean's shoulder, tightening his grip more than is technically necessary, before preparing to take them all to the house of the infant boys.

They didn't talk about it, but it didn't save them, and maybe, in the end, it will be their undoing.

*****

They're both lying to each other, and badly, Cas fears. Dean's face grows dark again for a moment as they pass out of range of another street light, before the motion of the Impala draws them under another roadside beacon.

They both choose to speak in the times of darkness if they can, as if the dimness will be enough to cover up the jolted words and unconvincing tones, as well as their guilty faces.

It's painful, this facade. It just serves as a reminder of how they've both failed; themselves and each other. Cas yearns for the days when it didn't feel like he was drowning when he looked at Dean. Sometimes he even yearns for the days where he didn't feel at all.

Dean accepts another blatant lie gracefully, as has become the pattern of this conversation, but then he does something unforgiveable.

"But Cas you'll call right? If you get into real trouble?" he says, and something in Cas breaks; snaps into a hundred tiny pieces and there's such an ache, a deep, terrible ache that for a moment Cas fears something is happening to his vessel.

 It’s too late; far, far too late for such words and now they’ll both pay the price.

Not for the first time Cas feels some regret about not going to Dean that day, that fateful day when Crowley approached him with an offer that seemed far too good to be true. Pulling Dean out of what was supposed to be his fairy tale life doesn’t seem like such a sacrifice in comparison to the damage they have both suffered as a result of Cas' choice. 

He can’t even bring himself to reply to Dean’s well-meaning words; he can't force any words past the lump in his throat even if it means risking his cover. He just about manages to turn from Dean, nodding his head in agreement as he does.

Dean's released from their gaze and Cas grasps the opportunity to flee before he can start confessing to all the terrible things in his heart; to all the things he's done, and all the things he's going to do in Dean's name. He flees and desperately clings to the fading belief that when all this is said and done he'll still have Dean to come home to.

*****

It's not as hard a decision as it should be, choosing to intervene. Crowley’s going to be beyond pissed, and Cas is starting to wonder how much further he can push Crowley before he refuses to give. Still, it's intervene or watch Dean die, and that's never going to be an option.

It feels good for them to treat him as their saviour, if only for a moment; it makes him feel righteous in a way he hasn't for the longest time. It isn't hard to smile genuinely for once as they gather round him. It's been too long since he felt the simple joy he's come to associate with being part of this group; a family for him when his own family turned their backs, a family for him even now as he betrays them all. Righteousness gives way to guilt, as it always does, and Cas is left feeling cold.

Still, his actions seem to have regained some of their failing trust, which is vital to his war efforts. A part of him screams that it's wrong to take such satisfaction in knowing that he's tricked the ones he cares for the most, but he smothers it under reassurances that he's doing this for the right reasons; he's doing this to save Dean and maybe one day they'll be able to look back on this time and talk about it freely without anger and hurt. The only way that's going to happen is if Cas is successful, so duping his friends it is. There's nothing wrong about taking joy in saving them, even if it's from themselves. 

He believes he's playing his part well, at least well enough that they no longer seem suspicious. It seems like a very large amount of time has passed from the day when Dean stood far too close to Cas, only hours after reprimanding him for forgetting to mind Dean's own personal space, re-doing his tie as Dean taught him the importance of being able to lie, and lie well. Cas' first attempts were horrendous, but now it appears he's reached the point where he can lie straight to Dean's face and not be detected. He shouldn't feel pride. 

He shouldn't feel validated when Dean starts apologising to him for the doubts that only Sam and Bobby voiced out loud.

"We should have." Dean says. "We never should have doubted you. Just hope you can forgive us."

Their eyes meet and Cas feels as if he's floating. He'd begun to think that Dean would never look at him like this again; there are too many emotions caught in his expression for Cas to even begin to understand, but he understands some of them well enough, and he understands the way they make him feel. His hope forgets to be quiet, and it quickly wells up in his chest.

It won't be long now and the door to Purgatory should become open to him. As long as he can keep this up for a little while longer, these moments with Dean will be his to have once again. It's good to have a reminder of what he's fighting for.

If he could, he'd tell Dean; tell him what an apology from Dean 'I never apologise for anything' Winchester means, tell him what that look makes him feel, tell him... He'd tell him too little and too much and _you don't talk about it. Don't_.

So instead he smiles and says "It's forgotten."

The smile dims on Dean's face as he says "Thanks." The weight of forgiveness is something that will never be lost on Dean.

Sam manages to say "Yeah, thanks Cas." with a smile that's just as unsurely guilty and humbled as Bobby's.

Feeling triumphant, Cas presses his advantage seeking to cement the idea of his betrayal of ridiculous in their minds. He says "It is a little absurd though." and smiles as they bow their heads even further.

"I know, I know." Bobby mumbles.

"Superman going to the dark side." He throws in a reference to strengthen his ties with Dean. Dean usually likes it when Cas picks up on the pop-culture Dean thinks is important. "I'm still just Castiel." he finishes.

The smile falls from Dean's face for a second, but it's replaced before Cas has any real time to worry. "I guess we can put away the Kryptonite right?" he says.

"Exactly." Cas replies, and he smiles at Dean like he has all the time in the world, like he won't have to go to Crowley as soon as this is over reminding him where the limits are in their agreement.

But go he must, so it's with one last look at a nervous Sam and Bobby that he departs, feeling happier than he has done in some time. Maybe this can still work out after all.

*****

The flames lick up around him, and every last angelic part of him screams in fear. It's terrifying to be trapped like this, and so terribly claustrophobic. The slightest move away from the centre of the circle could mean permanent damage to his wings and pain that would drive Cas to madness. He can feel the heat and the holy dance towards him, and he wants to cry out; to run away and hide, but Sam and Bobby are talking to him; throwing accusations around left, right, and centre and it's all Cas can do to keep up.

In the end it's Dean who deals the fatal below, as it always would be.

"You gotta look at me man. You gotta level with me and tell me what's going on. Look me in the eye, and tell me you're not working with Crowley." Dean says, with such a look of hope, like he believes this will somehow all turn out to be a horrible misunderstanding; that his supposed friend won't have committed the worst of crimes against him.

Cas looks into Dean's open face and he can't even hope to lie. Knowing that it may be the last time Dean ever looks at him with anything less than hate in his eyes, Cas drops his gaze to the fire that encircles him; it burns his eyes less than looking at Dean does.

The "Son of a bitch." that comes from Dean is breathy and broken, and Cas panics; really, truly panics. He can't lose Dean, he can't; not like this. Not ever.

"Just let me explain." he begs but Dean can command a righteous anger that would put many an angel to shame, especially one that has fallen so far and so low.

"You're in it with him? You and Crowley? Been going after Purgatory, together?" Dean says. _Together_. Cas wants to cry. Dean says the word as if it makes the whole affair more offensive, as if Cas taking on a partner other than Dean makes the betrayal more severe.

As much as he wants to, Cas can't deny Dean's accusation. He wants to say _it's not like that, he hasn't replaced you, I'd much rather have been spending my time with you_ , but he's well aware these things must go unsaid. He stays silent and Dean takes his quiet for confirmation.

"You have huh. This whole time?"

Cas is reminded once more that he and Dean aren't the only ones here as it is all too easy to pretend, not the only ones he has to try and convince of his innocence, or if not innocence then justification.

"I did it to protect you, I did it to protect all of you." he says, turning to Sam and Bobby with the last part of his plea. Neither of them seem impressed, and Sam in particular is taking this hard. It's unsurprising. Cas has just hurt the thing that Sam holds most dear in all the known world, and he has more of a tendency to engage in talks about his feelings than both Dean and Bobby.

"Protect us how? By opening a hole into monster land?" Sam asks, and from there on there's a barrage of new lines of enquiry for Cas to protect himself against. Dean stays curiously quiet, letting his brother and his almost Father gather the information they need.

There isn't time for this. Crowley'll work out something's wrong soon, and by then the boys need to be away from here.

"Listen." he begs. "Raphael will kill us all. He'll turn the world into a grave yard. I had no choice."

It's here that Dean can no longer remain silent. "No you had a choice. You just made the wrong one."

Cas wants to laugh; Dean's such a believer in free will, but only when the choices people make suit him. Cas made this choice _for_ him, and just because Dean can't comprehend it doesn't make it wrong.

"You don't understand. It's complicated." he says.

"No actually it's not, and you know that. Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret huh, unless you knew that it was wrong?" Dean says and there's little Cas can say in response. His arguments wouldn’t be heard.

"When crap like this comes around, we deal with it, like we always have. What we don't do is, we don't go out and make another deal with the Devil."

Cas briefly wonders if this is the part Dean's most angry about; that once again someone has made a deal with a demon. He fleetingly wonders if his actions make him an official Winchester, now he's sold his soul to protect the ones he loves.

"That sounds so simple when you say it like that." he says. Cas raises his head, locking eyes with Dean as he asks "Where were you when I needed to hear it?"

Dean doesn't back down, keep his head up and his chin out as he says "I was there. Where were you?"

The irony. Cas was there, he was right there and he walked away from Dean instead of towards him, and he did so to spare Dean. Who has he spared now he wonders? Everyone suffered in the end. The only way he can hope to ever make this right is to ensure that he and Crowley beat Raphael; there must be no other outcome.

"You should have come to us for help Cas." Dean says, and it seems he's reached his limit. He can look at Cas no longer, and his teeth worry his bottom lip in what Cas suspects is a way to keep back the tears; it's how Cas feels, and he's beginning to realise that Dean probably doesn't feel so differently to him.

They've wasted so much time.

"Maybe." he says. There's a strange, distant noise from outside, and he can feel a demon horde approaching. "It's too late now." he warns. "I can't turn back now, I can't."

They're already backing away, leaving Cas trapped where he is and retreating to recover from their loss somewhere else. And Cas will be left here all alone.

Even as he moves towards the door, Dean continues to speak. "It's not too late, dammit Cas we can fix this."

It's not fair. Dean was never meant to offer him this chance; Dean doesn't offer people these chances, not really. Sometimes he gives out ultimatums to the people he's closest to, but seemingly only when he knows that they'll refuse him. This isn't like that; he's looking at Cas with real hope in his eyes, even if it's buried underneath layers of hurt and anger.

Crowley'll be here any second, and when he arrives Dean won't be safe. With a heavy heart, he does what he needs to protect Dean.

"Dean it's not broken."

There's the smallest of moments where Dean looks slightly taken aback but it's quickly washed away under the noise of the approaching storm. They can't stay much longer.

"Run; you have to run now." he says. "Run!"

It works; they finally fold and Dean holds the door open as Bobby and Sam file out and set off running towards the Impala. Dean though, Dean stays behind for one, long moment where he just stares into Cas' eyes with broken regret.

This is it; their last chance to say anything that's remained unsaid but there isn't enough time and there aren't enough words and _you don't talk about it you don't talk about it you don't talk about it you don't, you don't_ and never has Cas wished they could more than in this moment.

How he keeps his lips closed he'll never know, but Dean says nothing and eventually he stops waiting for Cas to interject, to say any of the things that he's dying to say. He's already said too much tonight.

Crowley rides in on a white horse wearing amour that reflects the fiery light that encircles Cas, and they both play their parts well enough. He's no damsel in distress, and Crowley's no Prince Charming; they're two people doing what they must in an agreement that neither of them ever could have imagined it would be necessary to make, but Crowley's right. One of them here still maintains some moral high ground, and it certainly isn't Cas.

He stays in the empty cabin for a long time after Crowley leaves, taking the time to process all that’s happened before finally he spreads his wings and takes flight. Dean was willing to offer him another chance, and maybe if Cas goes to him now and tries to explain himself again Dean will understand. Maybe.

****

If looks could kill, Cas would almost certainly be dead. Dean's not happy that he's broken into Bobby's house in the middle of the night, and even less happy that their angel proofing doesn't work. Cas isn't the only angel they need to be protected against after all.

"Why are you here?" Dean says.

"I want you to understand-" Cas begins but Dean has no time for any of Cas' explanations; he hasn't listened to a single one of Cas' attempts to justify his actions and Cas is beginning to suspect that he never will.

"Oh believe me I get it. Blah blah Raphael right?"

Dean’s never going to want to hear any truth that means he has to feel less angry at Cas for betraying him as he has. It's a human reaction, an understandable one, but Cas wishes they could just push all that to one side and talk openly with each other.

Why is it, that it's forbidden? It dawns on Cas that this rule might be like any other number of Dean's inexplicable rules for things that make him feel uncomfortable, rather than a general human practice; if that's the case then he can get away with breaking it.

"I'm doing this for you Dean. I'm doing this _because_ of you." he tries earnestly.

It doesn't work.

"Because of me. Yeah. You gotta be kidding me." says Dean as he turns his back on Cas, walking away to create more space between the two of them, and Cas instantly misses him; his presence, and the way the heat rolls off his body and over Cas' skin. It's such a stupid thing to miss when there's every chance that he'll never see Dean again if this conversation goes as badly as Cas thinks it will.

He tries again, a slightly different tack. "You're the one who taught me, that freedom and free will-."

"You are a friggin' child you know that." Dean's anger is clear, and Cas wonders how they ever managed to have a conversation without one of them saying something to upset the other.

"Just because you can do what you want, doesn't mean that you get to do _whatever_ you want." Dean says.

He's right back up in Cas' space, and Cas wonders why there's always been two sets of rules for them on that front; on so many fronts. The desire to reach out and touch, to pull Dean to him, and make Dean understand Cas' plight with his hands and his mouth and his affection; it's almost overwhelming _. Don't. You don't talk about it_.

No one ever said anything about not acting on it.

Nevertheless, he grinds out "I know what I'm doing Dean." and stays rigidly still in front of Dean's anger, letting it wash over him, break against him without absorbing the feeling. If anything, Dean's hurt twists Cas' stomach into knots, making him feel more hopeless and despondent by the second.

"I'm not gonna logic you, okay? I'm saying; don't, just 'cause. I'm asking you, not to. That's it." Dean says.

How is Dean offering him yet another chance? It hurts worse than the accusations, that Dean would do this for him; that Cas means enough to Dean that Dean would give him this opportunity for redemption.

It doesn't change anything though; if he defects from Crowley and tries to stop him from opening the door to Purgatory, the past two years will have been for nothing and Cas will be left with a pissed off demon, and no way to win the civil war.

Maybe if he'd been offered this chance at the beginning of his efforts he could have taken, but now, so close to the end, too much damage has been done and he's come too far to give up at the last hurdle. Surely Dean understands what a vulnerable position they'd be in if Cas was to give up now?

He starts "I don't understand-" but again Dean cuts him off impatiently.

"Look, next to Sam, you and Bobby are the closest things that I have to family. You are like a brother to me. So if I'm asking you not to do something... you gotta trust me man." Dean says.

Cas can hardly breathe. From Dean there is no higher praise, no higher position in his life than Brother. Sam is, has been, and always will be, the most important person in Dean's life; being Dean's brother puts Sam above all others; not even John, Mary, Bobby, Ellen, his precious parental figures come close, even if they're likely to be the next four names of Dean's hierarchy of people who bear importance to him.

Dean doesn't have friends. Dean doesn't even have lovers often any more, and when he does they're usually meaningless, short lasting affairs. Even someone like Lisa was never going to be as important to Dean as someone he considered to be his flesh and blood family. And he's anointed Cas with the title of Brother.

This isn't fair.

Rather than cry and scream and rage, Cas lets a blankness settle over him as he drops his eyes away from Dean. He doesn't want to look at him anymore.

He can't accept this, even if it is the sweetest of temptations.

"Or what?" he says, and Dean visibly recoils. He'd made an offer he was sure Cas wouldn't refuse. How Cas wishes he had been right.

Dean says "Or I'll have to do what I have to do to stop you." even as he shakes his head in confusion.

"You can't Dean. You're just a man. I'm an angel." Cas' words don't sound convincing, even to himself.

"I dunno, I've taken some pretty big fish." Dean says, and Cas knows he's right.

If he put his mind to it, Dean could kill Cas and Crowley with little problem. It should be impossible with all the resources at the disposal of the King of Hell and a renegade angel in charge of an army, but Dean would do it all the same. Sometimes Cas thinks that this was his Father's real plan; to let Dean sweep in and knock everybody off their feet, to make them aware of their mortality, and to knock them all down a peg when they'd become too arrogant of their position.

Dean of course would like to think as his actions as the work of free will, but there have been too many miracles for Cas to believe that entirely. It saddens him to think that he may die by Dean's hand, and that’ll be the way his Father planned his final death to be; at the hands of the one Cas puts above all others.

"I'm sorry Dean." he says, and he is; he so desperately is but it doesn't change anything, and this conversation isn't getting them anywhere.

"Well I'm sorry too then." Dean says but Cas has already spread his wings and taken flight.

He flies for the longest time, trying to process the mess that is the last twenty four hours and his subsequent grief. He'd thought that the slow, steady breakdown of his relationship with Dean over the past year would soften the blow of losing him entirely. He was so terribly wrong.

*****

They met in a barn.

It's less a meeting and more a case of Cas plucking a wayward demon off Dean's dying form, but Cas prefers to think of it as the former for the little good it'll do him.

Dean's not happy, and angry words are said.

Cas is pretty sure he's going to cry for most of the conversation, and it just adds to his frustration. Angels weren't made to cry. Yet he stands in front of Dean with tears in his eyes and he begs.

Dean doesn't budge an inch.

Cas tries; he does, he tries everything he can think of to get through to Dean, to make him realise that Cas is doing this for him, that Cas is still trustworthy, that Cas is still there for him.

Nothing works.

His plea for Dean to step down, for his own sake as much as for Cas', is received badly.

Dean turns his back on Cas and Cas can't be there anymore. He just can't.

So he takes flight, once again leaving a hurt, angry Dean behind while Cas carries a new load of anguish and guilt.

He'll remember every second of their encounter in perfect detail until the moment he dies.

If he had to choose one moment of his life to forget, he wouldn't even hesitate before choosing these memories to be the ones he loses.

But remember them he will, so he does what little he can; shutting himself down, pushing his longing for Dean to one side, and preparing to do whatever's necessary to finish this once and for all.

*****

The noose tightens. Everything’s coming full circle, and hopefully, to an end. He's just left the beast from Purgatory in Crowley's capable hands, and as soon as he retrieves the information they need, they'll be ready to perform the ritual. It's almost over.

He's lost so much.

Still, he was aware this would happen if was ever caught, and maybe all he can be thankful for is that it didn't happen at a more crucial time.

Everyone's working against the clock now; he and Crowley, Raphael and his followers; Dean, Sam, and Bobby. They're all sprinting for the finish line, and whoever gets there first will have the fate of the Earth on their hands. There might be different rulers in Heaven and Hell in mere days; the Earth might be set alight, or saved, or some compromise between the two.

Cas certainly doesn't know how it will turn out, and he refuses to turn to his Father for guidance. He asked for His help and received nothing, nothing at all. So he walks forward alone, without his faith in his Father, and without Dean's faith in him.

Dean.

Cas thinks of all the things that he’s not allowed to say to Dean, of all the things they're not allowed to talk about. It's been some time since he imagined Dean pressed hot and urgent against him, and even now he can't conjure the images to his mind. He's seen Dean stare at him with too much sadness, too many times to picture him as anything but the hurt, insecure mess Cas knows Dean is inside.

He thinks instead of all the other types of things he's wanted to say to Dean; the need for emotional closeness, not just physical. He doesn’t quite understand some of the things he feels; they're not the same feelings he has for even the closest of his kin, not the same as the feelings he has for Sam or Bobby, not the same as the feelings he has for his Father. They are unto themself, and he doesn't know what to make of them. _You don't talk about it._

Maybe Dean was wrong. Maybe they should have.

Cas believes there's a chance this horrible mess could have been avoided if he'd just known how to talk to Dean about the sensitive issues from Day One. If he'd told Dean that he wasn't leaving him to go back to Heaven forever, that first he was going to break Sam out of the cage before he went to _assess_ the situation in Heaven, maybe Dean would have reacted differently.

He would have been able to tell Cas that he’d had failed to start with, and that would have saved many, many months of hardship for everyone; Sam would still be whole, and without the fragile wall in his mind.

It also might have made Dean more willing to contact Cas while he was in Heaven. If they'd just talked about this, everything could have been so different.

The realisation isn't a comforting one, but it tells him that maybe, it isn't too late.

There's no way he can speak to Dean directly; he'll shut Cas down as he has with every attempt Cas has made to get through to Dean, but he can confess all the things he's not meant to say to Dean while Dean's asleep. There's a chance that it might do someone some good.

Taking a deep, unnecessary breath to calm himself, Cas takes flight and comes to stand by Dean's unconscious form. Dean's chosen to forsake the bed he has in Bobby's house, instead choosing to remain downstairs on the sofa as he had the last time Cas had visited him.

He beings to stir; even in sleep he's attuned to the sound of Cas' wings, so Cas places two fingers to Dean's temple, using his Grace to send Dean into a deep, peaceful sleep. At least Dean will feel this benefit of Cas' presence if no other.

Cas wants to brush his fingers along Dean's smooth brow, his fingers itch with the desire to reach out and touch but Cas stops himself. There's a difference between speaking words Dean would not want to hear in consciousness, and touching Dean in a way he would not want in consciousness. Culture challenged as he is, even Cas knows such an innocent touch would risk crossing a line which should not be challenged.

Instead, he occupies his hands by manually pulling up the chair from Bobby's cluttered desk to Dean's side, allowing him to sit next to Dean with only inches of space between them. This after all, is more usual for them in waking, even if those times are well and truly gone.

Now that he's here, he's not sure where to start. Custom dictates you start a story at the beginning, but there's only so much time they can have undisturbed and Cas isn't really sure where the beginning is anyway. Is it the beginning of his own existence? The beginning of Dean's? Their first meeting in Hell or their first meeting on Earth? Is it in the green room or is it at Stull Cemetery?

How did they acquire so much history between them that they have so many beginnings? Will they be given another one? Will they get another chance to start over as something new?

Words flow from his lips, and once he starts, Cas finds it hard to stop.

"I didn't want to leave you. I realise now it must have seemed that way, but I didn't. I was happy that we’d triumphed, and that I might be the one to usher in a new age for Heaven; one where they could all make their own choices, their own decisions. There was joy in being able to give to others what you had given to me."

"I couldn't understand your anger at first; I don't think I did until Sam walked away from your house that night. It was meant to be different. I struggled through Hell by myself, fought my way right down to Lucifer's cage and somehow managed to break Sam out. I should have realised then of course that such a thing wasn't possible, but I was riding the high of our success and being brought back more powerful than ever before. I thought my Father had given me these extra powers in order to save Sam, and when I took his body back to Earth, I didn't for a second think I had been wrong."

"When Sam walked away I should have realised, but I suspected he was just trying to do what was best for you; giving you this chance at a life you thought you'd never be able to have. I had thought he'd walk to your door and we'd all be reunited soon. I didn't think he'd walk away or that you wouldn't call."

"You prayed of course, almost every night, in a way that made me suspect you couldn't stop yourself even though you wanted to. How was I meant to go to you when you weren't asking me any questions? How was I meant to go to you when I wasn't even sure you knew you were calling out to me? You kept telling me about your day, and bitching to me about how crap lawnmowers are, and informing me of Ben's progress at school with pride, but you never once asked me to come back and see all that for myself. You never asked for me, and so I didn't come. I wasn't sure I was meant to."

"Of course, in the mean time I had returned to Heaven to find that Raphael had taken charge. I'll admit that in the high of success I had forgotten that he might present a problem for the new Heaven that I had envisaged, but my resurrection and your success could only be solid proof that free will was a gift that we had been given. Surely."

"Raphael didn't seem to think so, and barely a moment after it had finished, the apocalypse was back on schedule."

"I came to you then. I stood and watched as you raked leaves in Lisa's garden, even as you quietly prayed to me, telling me of the accursed inefficiency of your equipment and how you'd have to think about saving up for something cool like a leaf blower. You were making plans for the long term, you were making plans to stay, and settle, and adapt to this life like Sam had wanted you to. How could I ask you to turn on your brother's last wish for you, even if I knew he was very much alive? Should I be the one to tell you he was alive? Could I go to you without telling you he was alive?"

"There were too many questions, and then Crowley came and offered what seemed like a much simpler alternative. I fought off Raphael that day, turned my back on Heaven for the second time, and started my rebellion, and I hadn’t had to bother you to do it."

“Yet, still you prayed to me. If I couldn't visit you before, I couldn't visit you now. It could aid Raphael in finding you for one, but I also sincerely doubted you'd like to hear that my war effort relied on my partnership with a demon anyway. At times I could scarcely believe it myself, and I didn't want to see the anger in your eyes, the disappointment."

"So I chose to stay away, and the longer I did, the clearer it was that I couldn't go back to you. Your prayers came less and less often, and my interactions with Crowley became more and more frequent. We spent a year living separate lives, and I started to believe that soon your prayers would stop; that I would be alone, trapped in a war I was fighting for you and all you believed in, while you believed I had abandoned you. My heart grew heavy and cold, and I started to become ruthless. My angelic nature started to resurface; the soldier in me was needed for this war, not the man who believed in freedom and choice."

"Sam prayed to me sometimes, but he asked for answers I could not give him. He'd want to know what I was doing, and I suspected if he found out I was fighting a civil war he would want to help, or worse, get both of you to help. I couldn't allow it, not anymore, so I ignored his calls."

"Yours on the other hand; when I heard you pray willingly and knowingly for the first time in a year my first instinct was to fly to your side as fast as my wings could take me. Rationality stopped me and I remembered all the reasons I had for staying away. I kept them in mind when I came to you, keeping our visit brief and myself detached. You were confused, and hurt, I think. You had expected things to go back to normal, or maybe you were hoping for some sign that I had missed you as dearly as you had me. While I wanted both of these things, I could give you neither, and when I left, you were not the only one feeling unsatisfied."

"If I had known then that a year of this behaviour would lead us here, I like to think I would have stopped; that I would have sat you down and told you what had happened. You would have been beyond angry of course; angry and hurt and betrayed, but it would have been a recoverable situation, at least compared to now. I just didn't know that at the time. I thought it was already too late, and I still can't be certain I was wrong."

"If only I told you- if we had told each other these things from the beginning Dean, we might have stood a chance. The time was never right and more often than not I was scared of your reaction, of losing you, and scared of my feelings. It's been years now, and I still don't understand them."

"What I feel for you, I don't feel for anyone else. No one makes me frustrated like you do, no one can work their way under my skin in quite the same fashion. You are often funnier than you realise, and I feel a joy when I'm with you that I miss when we're separated. I look at you and I become lost and found, all at the same time. You became a home and a family to me in a time when I had none, and it makes me feel a pride I shouldn't be capable of to know you consider me to be your family too."

"There's a love I feel for you. It's not like that I have for my brothers, or for Sam and Bobby, or even for my Father. I don't understand it. I know it's made me do the most appalling things for you, and in your name, and I know you would be angry if I told you that."

"I don't understand why we're not allowed to talk about it, and I think maybe we should be able to. I know right now you can't look at me, but I hope when this is over we can talk properly. I'll find a way to fix this Dean. I'll find a way to make this up to you, if it's the last thing I ever do."

He smiles wetly, but he's not sure why or who for. Dean sleeps on, unknowing, although he resists the peace Cas has put on his mind. _He's so stubborn_ Cas thinks fondly, _always so desperate to resist anyone's help_.  Dean's always so ready to suffer at his own hands and Cas laments that not even the love of an angel could change that.

A quick peak into Dean's mind shows the dream of a tranquil dock finally fall away. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, Cas watches on. He shouldn't, he knows that, but-

The landscape changes, the water and trees and the openness dissolve, and four white walls come up. It's a bedroom, Cas realises, one which is well loved and well worn; clothes litter the floor and the shelves are lined with dog eared books and the odd framed photograph. Light streams in through the translucent curtains, showering the scene with all the light of a summer's day. No longer in a deck chair, Dean lies on the side of the bed closest to the door, body entwined with another in the first moments of waking.

"Morning sleepy head." Dean mummers fondly, and the shape in front of him grumbles half-heartedly, burrows itself deeper into Dean's embrace and under the rumpled sheets. Chuckling to himself, Dean is not deterred; instead he places slow, lingering, open mouthed kisses to the lighted tanned skin in front of him, applying pressure at the knobs of a spine and the hollow of a throat which arches back into his embrace, while its owner releases a breathy sigh.

It's peaceful, and alarmingly intimate. Cas shouldn't be here. He's gathering himself to leave when Dean speaks.

"Come on Cas, up 'n at 'em. We're meant to be visiting Sam today remember?"

The shape under the covers moves, making a little grumpy noise as it surfaces to reveal a shock of dark brown hair poking up at odd angles. Cas stares in awe as his own eyes stare back out at Dean in a way that suggests Cas might be considering smiting him.

Dean can tell that too if his happy snort is anything to go by, and he ruffles Cas' hair playfully in a move which leaves it even messier than it was to start with.

"You're insatiable, you know that?" Cas says, but despite his tone there's a secret smile in his eyes which shows his fondness for Dean. It's disarming, for Cas to see himself like this; so familiar and so alien all at the same time. A streak of irrational jealously runs through him even while the rest of him is immobile. It's taking most of his effort to remain standing as Dean's dream unfolds; the floor increasingly seems like a more reasonable place to be.

Dean's mouth opens in the beginnings of a cheeky grin, presumably ready to reply to Cas' teasing, but something stops him short. The light streaming in through the window seems a little dimmer, the air a little colder, and the smile falls from Dean's face.

"Dean, what is it?" Cas hears himself ask.

It's a moment before Dean replies, in the bewildered tone of child who realises their parent is capable of lying to them.

"You hurt me today."

So his subconscious is ruining even this for him, this dream Dean's created of a better time to help protect him from the stark reality of his present.

"I'm sorry." Cas says, and Dean's mind can capture his look of sorrow perfectly if Cas isn't mistaken. It hurts, to watch this from the outside. He wonders if this is how their arguments look to Sam and Bobby. He feels so helpless.

Realising that's he's dreaming, and that he shouldn't be dreaming about Cas in this way, Dean tries to resist; tries to wake himself. Cas' grace won't allow for it and Cas goes to relieve his presence, sparing Dean from this conversation. But then-

Cas didn't create this dream; Dean did. If Dean's mind thinks he's ready to do this, then who is Cas to stop him? This may be the only talk they get to have, and Cas won't even really be participating; it's still better than nothing. Feeling mildly guilty, he does nothing, and waits.

"You're having this dream for a reason Dean, willing it to be over won’t make it so when it's not what you really want." his dream self tells Dean, the quiet authority in his voice encouraging Dean to accept his words. 

It seems to work; Dean stops struggling with the world around him at least. He fights a different kind of struggle instead.

"Why?" he says brokenly, and there's so many questions he could be asking that Cas couldn't begin to answer him, even if he was required to.

The image of him has a better idea. "I keep trying to tell you Dean, you just don't want to listen." he says.

"If this is about Raphael-" Dean starts.

"It is about Raphael and that should be enough for you. If there was any way that I could have done this without hurting you, don't you think I'd have done it?" Cas says.

Dean can't seem to answer with words, instead he shakes his head, burrowing into his pillow as he does.

"Have I ever tried to hurt you Dean?" Cas continues.

"No." Dean says.

Cas smiles from his place opposite Dean, maintaining their eye contact as he speaks.

"No. Instead I've done all that's within my power to help you and your brother, time and time again. You know I would not make a decision like this unless there was no other way."

"You should have asked for help." Dean says, his voice quiet and cracking at the end. He sounds so lost, like he's failed Cas and he doesn't know how to fix it.

The image of Cas lying in Dean’s bed answers with more composure than the real Cas ever could. _He_ can barely breathe for all the sorrow he feels.

"And I didn't. It wouldn't have changed anything, and you still would have been angry. I just would have lost you sooner."

Tears start to fall down Dean's face, and he has to take a sniff as he continues.

"There must be another way."

"I've had two years Dean. If there was another way, if there was _any_ other way, don't you think I would have found it by now?" Cas questions.

Dean can't reply, he simply reaches out his hand to grasp Cas', and meshes them together in the piles of white sheets that surround them.

"I'm sorry." Cas says and he's crying now too. They all are; the boy, the visage, and the angel, tears and tears and unending woe and grief.

"Me too." Dean offers, forcing himself to smile, as if their apologies have made everything better.

There's silence for a moment, and it becomes clear that Dean has nothing left he needs to say. Cas offers "Do you want me to stay?" and Dean replies "Yeah. Just for a bit."

Dean tentatively shuffles closer, drawing Cas' body to him, and interlocks their limbs once more, trying to enjoy what little left there is of this fantasy.

Cas presses quiet words in Dean's collar bone and Dean returns them into the nest of Cas' hair.

"I love you Dean."

"Love you too."

And surely the world should change; the earth should shake, the sky should fall, and the planets should realign under the weight of Dean's confession, but nothing changes, nothing at all.

Except Cas. This changes him; his perception of Dean, of himself, of their relationship; he'd never considered that the love he felt for Dean would be romantic love but-

He continues to drink in the sight of Dean wrapped tight around his body, in what must be _their_ bed in _their_ home. It's not real; never could be real, not now, but this is something that perhaps they could have had. It's something that both of them want.

And that's no good to anyone. Cas has to go back to Crowley, soon _, now_ , and he has to continue with his plan to open Purgatory and destroy Raphael. This future is dead to him, and this moment is all he'll ever have of it.

So he holds it tight, folds in gently before storing it safe; deep down inside him where the taint of this war will never be able to reach.

Now that he knows, he must never look at Dean with fondness again. If he does, if he sees that fondness returned, he'll be lost. He must become the righteous warrior he has made his troops believe he is, and Dean must not change that.

Withdrawing from Dean's mind, Cas spreads his wings to take flight. He doesn't look at Dean. The time for love and divided loyalties is over. For the first time, he doesn't pray for Dean to be waiting for him when all this is over; instead he prays that Dean will move on, that he'll find it in his heart to forgive Cas for his sins, and that he'll leave him behind.

It's too much to hope for, but Cas supposes that's what miracles are for.

He takes flight, and leaves his old life behind, his only scrap of comfort is that he's finally learnt why they don't talk about it.

Cas wishes he'd never asked.


End file.
